Ghost only by Name (OC x Azog)
by xXEbonyRoseXx
Summary: This is a story I have been working on for some time now of a character of my creation named Sephony. Being an Elven scout from Rivendell, she travels inside of the Orc infested Moria to see if the rumors were true. That Azog the Defiler was not killed from his arm being severed by Thorin Oakenshield. Dated before the movies, after arm being cut off.


**Bolded words** means they are talking in black speech. _Italicized words_ means they are talking in elvish.

Sephony was lost. How had all of this happened? What decisions had been made to set these events in motion? Why had she come to this forsaken place? Sephony could remember her home, Rivendell. She remembered its beauty and grand halls in stark contrast to these dark and bone filled ones. Moria was a dreaded place filled with evil and death and no sane person ever wished to be lost within its expansive dilapidated halls.

Sephony had been sent here as a scout. The most trusted and skilled of her class, she felt no threat going to Moria. She had visited many times before for scouting trips. Many of those times however it was simply to check on the numbers of Orcs and Goblins that over ran the old Dwarven mines. This time was different though. A very concerning rumor had spread throughout the scouts that were brave or unlucky enough to be sent to watch over Moria. Elven scouts would frequently pick up words here and there of the dark language to better aid in their missions and many reports have come back with the name "Azog" on their lips. The large pale Orc hadn't been seen in years and was presumed dead after his defeat by the dwarves, but apparently many Orcs have been speaking his name in recent times.

Sephony was not worried by this however. He was dead was he not? She could kill any Orc she happened to stumble across and the name of a ghost did not frighten her. Still, the dreaded name was a concern to her people so she volunteered to go into Moria where the Orcs dwell.

No other scout had ever dared to enter on any other scouting trip. It was foolish and a death wish to do so. The scouts were never sent to go into Moria before, simply monitored the entering and exiting of Orc parties. But she wanted to prove the murmurings were wrong. Azog was dead and no longer a worry to her people or anyone else.

But, now here she was, standing in a hall filled with the bones of dwarves, fresh and old. She stood with her swords at the ready, looking up at the pale blue eyes of a ghost she refused to believe was real. There the pale Orc was before her, a mace in place of his missing arm planted right into the skin. Scars scattered his body from battles and from scaring tactics used by the Orcs. A smirk spread across his lips as he looked down at her, realizing he was going to be in for a battle. She was sure he was hoping it wouldn't be a quick one as well. Orcs craved for battle and he hadn't been seen in years. Perhaps he was out of practice from his absence?

It wasn't till she saw his smirk did Sephony finally feel the pang of fear explode in her stomach. She wanted to run, she wanted to kill him, she wanted to hide all at the same time, but that toothy grimace of a smile chilled her to the bone. She couldn't move. Sephony had never frozen up before in a battle. What was this paralysis that had suddenly come over her? She had seen a ghost and he wasn't going to disappear. All Sephony could do was scream at herself in her mind to move, to act, to do something! She battled with her frozen legs all while Azog stood still, watching her and reveling in the fear he struck inside of her. He could smell the fear radiating from the small elven women. He could see the panic in her eyes, the terror everyone should feel when they look upon him. Those large round doe eyes couldn't tear themselves away from him. Her icy blue eyes matched his, but hers seemed to dull as her realization of the situation hit her.

He was surprised when she lunged at him.

Blades whirling, Sephony skipped out of her stupor and into battle mode. All fear in her eyes disappeared as she focused on one thing and that was her dance of death. She was deadly when she got her hands on two swords. Fast, graceful, and ruthless all at the same time. Her dance was unlike any other. Jumping, ducking, climbing walls, spinning, and flipping where all common things she used when battling. Some to distract, others to evade, Sephony had never been injured in a real combat situation ever before. She barely used any effort when her blades spun and slashed in her graceful but firm grip, able to go for hours at a time if she needed to she never became tired.

Sephony's fear slowly crept back into her however as she realized just how little she was affecting the Orc. He blocked and sidestepped many of her attacks, pushing her back with strong blows that she was forced to block, letting her leather boots slide across the layer of dust covering the cold stone floor, but never letting herself be knocked over. She would jump back into the fray as quickly as possible.

Despite how little strength she used she found herself panting. She couldn't help, but pant from the panic welling up in her throat. She wanted to scream and run away like a child, not like the trained and veteran fighter like she was. He was large and terrifying as he used his superior size and strength to whittled the small woman back with strong attacks that shook her arms and sent painful chills down her back. The battle did not seem to affect him the same way however. Every cut or scratch she gave, he only seemed to become more interested with the fight.

He laughed and smirked even still, more amused with the battle then angry at the injuries he was receiving from it. How could he be enjoying this? He was being hurt, his life was at risk and he was laughing?! Anger joined the panic in her throat as she watched his mace come down on her blades once again, not noticing his leg sweeping her feet out from under her. Her back finally meeting the ground with a loud thud she gasped for air, it all escaping her in that moment. Her head smacked back against the stone floor, dizzying her further as she tries to regain her composure, trying to breath or see what was happening around her without the white fuzz that clouded her vision. Despite still not having recovered from the shock of the landing, Sephony knew she had to stand, had to get back up or she would be dead. Moving her arms to push herself back to her feet, Sephony yelped when the clawed tips of his mace hand trapped her neck like a cage back against the ground she lays on. They stick into the stone with a deadly force as he rested his large weight on top of her waist, leaning over her small frame as if inspecting her. Sephony couldn't help but suck in ragged and loud breaths from how tired she was, but also from his weight laboring her breathing. He seemed to pant as well, but his smirk stayed true on his thin lips.

Her chest heaved up with every breath, causing her breasts to move in her leather armor some. She truly was a beauty. A perfect prize after such a wonderful battle. He knew he would win but he hadn't expected her to put up such a good and fun fight. He usually found elves boring but she was different. With long white gold hair that flowed out around her across the floor and piercing blue eyes mixed with her beautiful smooth and untarnished skin, she was quite the sight. His hand still gripped his mace tightly, ready to kill her but something stopped him. He would like to say it was the physical attraction to her but he had kept other slaves for that reason and this felt…different. He growled up satisfaction when she finally got up the courage to start fighting against him again. Letting go of his mace, Azog knocked the swords from her hands and pinned them above her head by her wrists.

"_Unhand Me Savage!_" Sephony struggled, trying to get her legs up under his chest to kick him off but he left very little room between their bodies and just seemed to enjoy her struggling.

"**Struggle a bit more elf and I might just decide to keep you for myself.**"

"**Release me!**" Azog was shocked when he heard the guttural, snarling black speech rip from the elves delicate little mouth. She gave him a snarl worthy of a Warg and continued to struggle.

"**So the little elf knows our language. Perhaps I really will keep you alive.**" Getting up, he kept his grip on her wrist and hoisted her up into the air with ease, smirked at how she thrashed against him and simply tossed her onto his shoulder like a sack of food. His prosthetic arm resting over her legs as he proceeds at grab his mace and head down the hallway further into Moria, taking his new prize towards the throne room in the process.


End file.
